


Breathe ( I've got you )

by orphan_account



Series: Fuck it I love you [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Dart junior the cat, Established Relationship, Gay Billy Hargrove, M/M, Panic Attacks, can be read as a standalone, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Steve scratches Dart absently behind his ears as he eats, listening to the sounds of the neighbors waking up. He remembers the pancakes and stands, grabbing the spatula of the counter, flipping the pancakes over. They are slightly dark but still edible. He listens to the click of nails on laminate flooring next door and pictures sharp rows of teeth in flower faces. The dog must be happy that his owners are awake, pattering about, probably wagging her tail in her excitement.or: The one with Steve's panic attack and Billy helping him through it.





	Breathe ( I've got you )

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd. Apologies for any mistakes.

It’s an early on Sunday, the weak morning sun slanting through the windows of the living room and kitchen, warming Steve’s bare back from where he is standing at the stove. He puts some butter in a skillet to melt, grabs the bowl he has standing at his right side and starts mixing the pancake batter with a whisk until it’s smooth. He adds some blueberries and pours two dollops of batter in the skillet, waiting for the surface to bubble. 

It’s a peaceful morning, with the coffee already brewing in the beat up coffee machine he and Billy scavenged from a thrift store, but makes a delicious brew. Dart is sleeping on the windowsill in the living room, his black tail swishing back and forth indicating that he is aware of Steve’s presence. 

Steve props his hip against the counter, eyes that are still gritty with sleep squinting against the sun. Billy’s still asleep and Steve can hear the sheets ruffle when he moves, can hear the soft noises he makes when he settles down again. He can picture him laying on his belly, curls askew on the pillow, burnished golden in the sunlight. If he were still in bed with him he would draw idle patterns on the smooth skin of Billy’s back, place kisses and reticent ‘I love you’s’ in the notches of his spine until bright blue eyes would peer at him with faux annoyance. 

He peeks at the pancakes, grabs the spatula and flips them. Within a few minutes they are done and he repeats the process until pancakes are stacked high on a plate and only a thin layer of batter remains in the bowl. He gets it out with a spoon and puts it in the skillet. If they don’t eat it all they can freeze it for another morning, or Billy can take them with him for his lunch sometime this week. 

Dart has jumped from his perch on the window sill and has padded over to where Steve is standing, winding his way between his legs and meowing pitifully with his bright green eyes fixed on him. “You make it seem like we don’t feed you at all.” Steve grumbles as he bends down to scoop the cat up, hugging him close to his chest. Dart instantly starts purring, bumping his small head against Steve’s cheekbone. “You want breakfast huh?” Dart wriggles in his grip and Steve chuckles. He deposits Dart back on the ground and opens the cabinet where they store the cat food. Dart’s mewls get louder and Steve shushes him. “Quite, someone’s still sleeping.” Dart only looks up at him as he sits next to his bowl not ceasing his meowing at all. Steve rolls his eyes and fills the bowl with food, getting a bump against his knee for his troubles. Steve scratches Dart absently behind his ears as he eats, listening to the sounds of the neighbors waking up. He remembers the pancakes and stands, grabbing the spatula of the counter, flipping the pancakes over. They are slightly dark but still edible. 

He listens to the click of nails on laminate flooring next door and pictures sharp rows of teeth in flower faces. The dog must be happy that his owners are awake, pattering about, probably wagging her tail in her excitement. The spatula falls out of Steve’s shaking hand, clattering noisily to the floor. Dart jumps away from his bowl, ears flat as he hisses at the offending object. Steve doesn’t notice, mind still projecting images of slick grey skin, eyeless faces that open up to swallow him whole. 

He’s shaking he notes absently, hands clamped painfully tight on the edge of the counter as he struggles to breathe. It’s as if a leaden slab is placed on his sternum, hindering his lungs from expanding. Cold sweat drips down his spine, beads on his forehead and soaks the loose hairs at the nape of his neck. He wills his eyes closed, tries to count to ten like his therapist told him but all he can see behind his closed lids are snapping jaws and grey skin clinging to emancipated bones. 

He’s vaguely aware of shuffling behind him, of a voice that calmly calls his name alerting him to his presence. Billy is next to him in a second, a warm hand placed between Steve’s shoulder blades. 

“Breathe.”Billy says and he gently peels Steve’s fingers away from around the counter to place it on his chest. Billy’s heartbeat is steady, his breathing even and Steve tries to match it. He struggles, throat still wound tight. The hand on his back rubs soothing circles and he can feel curls brushing against his cheek. He breathes. He breathes until his panicked gasps even out, he breathes until he feels his shoulders sag, he breathes until the weight on his chest lifts. 

“That’s it.” Billy says. “That’s it. I am so proud of you.” His voice is a soothing balm and Steve sags against him, burying his face in Billy’s neck. Billy is still warm from sleep and smells like it and Steve inhales deeply, letting it anchor him.The images of the demodogs dissolve completely when Billy’s strong arms wrap around his torso, hold him up and pull him in close. 

“ I am sorry.” Steve croaks against the skin of Billy’s neck. 

“For?” Billy inquires, winding his fingers around Steve’s chin, resolutely pulling him away from his hiding space. 

His blue eyes are piercing when Steve looks at him, fierce, a fire burning in the depths. Or maybe the sun shining on Californian waves, Steve thinks. “For waking you up.” He says weakly. 

“You didn’t. That tiny black terror did it.” His eyes avert from Steve’s face, glaring at the spot Dart is currently sitting. When he looks back his eyes have softened. “And you have nothing to be sorry for.” He brushes a kiss against Steve’s cheek, reaches around him to turn off the stove. “Those pancakes aren’t salvageable anymore.” He says, a glint of humor in his eyes.

“I made more.” Steve says. 

“I can see. It’s a whole fucking mountain.” 

Steve relaxes fully, arms winding around Billy’s waist. He has pillow creases on his cheek and a serious case of bed hair but to Steve he is beautiful like this, still soft and pliant from sleep. “Thanks.” He murmurs in the skin under Billy’s ear. Billy hums, his hands smoothing down Steve’s sides. 

Steve retracts his head from between Billy's curls, traces a finger along the pillow creases on Billy’s cheek before leaning in and kissing him softly. Billy sighs and Steve licks into his mouth, morning breath be damned. They kiss slowly, deeply, one of his hands curled around the base of Billy’s head and the other cradling his jaw gently, as if it’s something precious and fragile. To him it is. Billy’s hands are bunched in the back of his shirt, sometimes tugging to pull him impossibly closer. 

“I love you.” He breathes against Billy’s lips when he resurfaces for air.

Billy smiles, soft only for him. “Love you too babe. Now, let’s not let those pancakes go to waste. I am starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Come find me on tumblr @billyhhargrove


End file.
